"you are my princess,
but i’ll ******* like a *****”
you never did either. i was granted no jewels,
no sapphires, no rubies, not even zirconia
to match this forgery of skin.
my neck felt too small in your tired fingers,
and too many times i waited.
(snap, break, snap)
too tired to throw me down,
awake enough to bruise my blood
vessels.

"you are my princess"
i felt more like the penniless ******,
breathing in vapors while my smudged eyes
twitched and itched.
i would arrive at your doorstep, salivating,
and you never even had a bone to
throw.

"i’ll ******* like a *****"
i wanted your chunks like maggots crave
the panting dead,
i wanted your intestines wrapped with my
intestines, your lungs breathing in my
lungs, every centimeter of your veins
grinding and sweating against my veins.

"you suffocated me"

you had the world at your feet,
and you couldn’t even take one
step.

911 used to be scabbed on the back of my
knees, and soaked carpets
were like coming
home. her eyes were nothing like
mine, and the police always
wanted to know. but i hated the way their
lips smacked against their teeth.


911 used to be tied to my fingers with
****** ribbons, and if you ask me who my kindergarten
teacher was, i couldn’t tell you.
chocolate milk nights were thick with
bruises. i made friends with the images in between the tiles
in the bathroom.

911 used to be etched on my stomach,
and even now i cannot see red blue and white flashing lights
without wanting to puke.
six months is forever when you’re seven years old,
but daddy
always said life is too short
anyway.

i want nothing more than a new years kiss
from you.
so save your lips for me, save your
fingers for me,
until next year.

it is not butterflies you placed in my tummy,
but large ferocious birds,
with wingspans fluttering against the inners of my
lungs,
beaks prodding my intestine,  
their necks snarling with my esophagus.
their caws pulsate in and out my pores,
and these birds want to fly, fly, fly
towards you.
but i bite with anxious molars, and their blood tastes like
cranberries.
choking up red soaked feathers,
i wonder if you have birds
too.

Little speckled bird,
quirky nerd, owl eyes-
gleaming behind the glasses,
often you zoom inwards
and land in that never never land
beyond the reach of most,
yet I am in love with your
ingeniousness that defies words.
bit strange it may sound
but I am one who explores
the hidden spaces beyond
my desired comfort zones.
they warn me saying a nerd
is a killjoy, nothing else
Swimming against the tide
I hear your excited chirps inside
making me restless with anticipation,
my intellectual slant
received your approval,
many times,I am hopeful
growing my beard long
I'll wait here, till you return
completing your mission.

drunk *** is more logical,
you moan things you could never say sober,
your moves fumble but end with awkward
names shout out and nails
filled with blood and dead skin cells of people you
don’t want to
remember.
drunk *** makes more sense to me. because i feel more
****, more alive, yet more devastated.
so when i’m ******* you, i’m trying to ****
out the problems i can’t seem to
erase.
don’t take it personally. well, that’s what people try
to tell me. yet i take everything personally.
(i’m working on it)
i’ll keep having drunk ***,
and trying to mend the bruises that i crave for,
trying to bandage the heart that i can’t find the
beat for
anymore.
people tell me they don’t understand why i’m crying,
and all i can say is,
same here. i don’t get it
either.

trill through my veins,
the cadence matching to that of your
muted steps.
drained ribs, vital with the tingle of
your
bristles. trill through my veins, trill through my
veins. let my anatomy be
your melody.

i. i have convinced myself i look the most beautiful with bruises and
hair that has not been brushed.
ii. sensitivity is my virtue. i wear it on my eyelashes and cry it all
off so i look like a raccoon waiting to be abandoned.
iii. i think if you opened me up inside you would find
books with dog-eared pages and
dandelions.
iv. if i fall in love with you, hold me down with cords
and fabrications.
v. i’m wearing lipstick too much, because all i can think of
lately is your fingers in my mouth and the
cliffs i need to jump off
of.